


Gravity

by RcA



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Astronomy, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Science Fiction & Fantasy, lol yup, not sure which is a better fit tbh, sentient space rocks, strange and sweet... strangely sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-05 20:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11585781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RcA/pseuds/RcA
Summary: Youngbae finds a new friend in (and from) an unexpected place.





	Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> This was just an odd little thing that I wrote one night last December while I was in the middle of working on Bright Like the Sun. Have been meaning for months to fix it up and finish, and when I finally did... I ended up re-writing the whole thing and it came out twice as long. Go figure, lol. This is an AU in which Big Bang never existed, but Youngbae, Jiyong, Seunghyun, and Seungri are developing their own solo careers. And Daesung is... uh, well, you'll see.
> 
> Another thing: I've gone with Youngbae's stage name SOL, though Taeyang would work just as well (only mentioned once though, so not really important). And this isn't set strictly in Korea, because I just don't feel like messing with things like honorifics or societal hierarchies here.
> 
> Inspired by [this graphic](http://i.imgur.com/Um2kOiH.jpg) (not made by me). Enjoy~
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** This is a fictional work based on the public personas of real people, over whom I make no claim and to whom I mean no harm. Just having a little fun with them.

 

 

 

The cool night air greets Youngbae when he steps outside. Inside, through the glass door at his back, the party rages on. It's his third this week, and he's starting to feel the toll. Some might say he has a problem. Like his best friend Jiyong, who even though he's out just as late just as often partying it up, reveling in all the perks of his flourishing fame, sees what this rockstar lifestyle is doing to Youngbae. How it's wearing him down, carving him thin.  
  
But he isn't here tonight because he wants to be; he's here because it's expected of him. Because if he's telling the truth, something this cutthroat industry has tried to beat out of him, the party scene around here is, well... it's getting a little old.  
  
The thing is, the better his albums sell, the more his fame grows, and to more and more parties he's expected-- sometimes _required_ \-- to go. And most days it's fine. Most days he loves going out, loves meeting new people, loves the way their faces light up in recognition when he strolls through the room, oozing confidence just the same as if he were onstage under the spotlight with a mic in hand.  
  
But some days all he wants is to get away. Times like right now.  
  
He loves what he does... and still there's something missing. Something critical to his continuing happiness. The question that plagues him now is: _what?_  
  
He doesn't think on it too much, not tonight. Not when, off to one side, on the edges of his vision, a light flickers. It's only there a second before it vanishes, gone before his eyes can catch it. But then-- there!  
  
It flashes again, up and to his left, and this time it doesn't blink out when he locks onto it, captivated. It streaks across the sky, blazing bright, a smear of white paint against the dark canvas of night.  
  
A shooting star! His heart leaps into his throat at the sight.  
  
But then-- that's not right. _That's only an expression_ , he chides himself. Stars don't fall, nor do they shoot through the sky. Not when they die, not ever. They _explode_. Spectacularly. And they're nowhere near Earth, anyway. That up there? Probably just a chunk of rock or metal from above.  
  
Still beautiful though.  
  
So it may not be a star, but Youngbae closes his eyes and makes a wish anyway. That someday, hopefully sooner than later, that nameless thing he yearns for will find its way to him. He doubts a piece of space debris has the same power-- or any power at all-- but he desperately wants to believe that somewhere out there _someone_ must hear his silent prayer.  
  
He opens his eyes, expecting the light show to have ended, but no. It's still there, still tearing through the atmosphere as it fights its way down, a brilliant beacon in the night as it... descends?  
  
It dawns on him then: it's going to hit the ground.  
  
He follows the flaming object down until it disappears from view beneath the treetops in a wooded area of a nearby park. Where he had seen leafy branches with startling clarity, illuminated by the ball of fire, there's now only an expanse of black.  
  
That's... not far from here, and he finds the urge to go and investigate overwhelming. He's never seen a meteor impact. He's never been so close to one as it came down from the heavens. And the party? He hasn't been out here long. No one has come looking for him; probably no one will. And if someone does, well, Youngbae has better things to do right now than make small talk with strangers.  
  
He doesn't just want to know what he just saw-- he _needs_ to. It's not a long walk from his place on this hilltop. He can probably make it down there and back before the party ends. Might have to field some questions, but that's okay. Though he promised that no matter how high he rose he would always be sincere, he's getting better at giving empty answers these days, at feeding people what they want to hear.  
  
Youngbae wants to show the world more of himself, and in return all he wants is something real. So why does his work leave him feeling faker than ever? He's worked too hard to start from scratch, but a change of pace might do him good. And bailing on this party sounds like as good a start as any.  
  
He hops the fence and takes off down the hill, curiosity spurring him on.

 

 

\--

 

 

The problem with tracking a fallen star-- a _meteor_ , Youngbae corrects himself-- is he doesn't quite know what it is he should be looking for. What signs would an object from space leave? A crater? Scorched earth? A cloud of dust and debris? A fire coursing through the woods, consuming everything in its path?  
  
He should probably leave this to someone who actually knows what they're doing. To the _professionals_. Patting his pocket where his phone is tucked away, he considers making a call, but to who? Who do you report something like this to? The police? They'd laugh at him, probably write him off as drunk. Or worse, _high_ , and then he'd be in big trouble. They might even raid the party he just ditched.  
  
"I'm searching for a UFO," he says aloud to no one. To himself, maybe. "An unidentified _fallen_ object."  
  
He gets no reply, of course, and for that he's relieved. He tries not to think too hard about all the woodland creatures probably watching him through the dark, their beady eyes fixed on him from the branches above as he stomps his way through the woods like some kind of noisy ape. The stage is where his moves are smooth as silk. Out here? Not so much.  
  
As far as he can tell, there's nothing out of the ordinary about these woods. They aren't even that thick and yet it feels like he's been walking forever. He should have come out the other side by now, should have reached the basketball court already, should be stepping off the curb and onto the quiet street beyond. Instead he's here, the pale moonlight filtering through the canopy of trees barely enough to light his way as he ventures deeper into darkness in search of a light he thought he saw. Could he have imagined it? Besides that, he still doesn't know what, exactly, he's supposed to be looking for.  
  
Until he suddenly does.

 

 

\--

 

 

He finds it in a clearing. Not a natural clearing, no, but one created just tonight. Downed saplings and charred earth, the grass seared clear away, tell Youngbae all he needs to know about what happened here. What _landed_ here.  
  
There, in the center of it all, lies a smooth stone.  
  
Youngbae expects it to be glowing, or steaming, anything that might warn him its surface is too hot for him to safely touch. But he sees no such thing, only a smooth rock about the size of a football, its surface covered in shallow divots. Its metallic, almost glossy surface reflects the light of the moon like a mirror. Leaning in to get a closer look, it appears less like a stone and more like a warped piece of metal. Iron, maybe. It beckons him, its polished surface tempting him near.  
  
He bends down to touch it...  
  
...and immediately regrets it. The moment his fingers make contact a flash of white blinds him, searing his eyes and sending him staggering backward surprise and pain. Where he'd been expecting _heat_ he'd been given _light_.  
  
And when it fades, a... person?  
  
The rock is gone, Youngbae sees when he's finished rubbing at his eyes, his vision clearing, the stabbing pain receding. The stone-- the hunk of metal, the object that fell-- it's _gone_ , as if it was never there. And in its place there lies a boy about his age. A young man in his late teens, maybe early twenties.  
  
A _naked_ young man. Unconscious in the middle of the woods in a park somewhere in the dead of night.  
  
"What the fuck," Youngbae says, forgetting in his confusion not to curse.  
  
Is he dreaming? Is he _tripping?_ He turned down that... _whatever that was_ he was offered back at the party. No thanks. Possibly someone spiked his drink.  
  
He stares with too-wide eyes at the figure passed out on the ground. Curled in a ball with his back to Youngbae, it's his broad shoulders leading to slim hips that give him away.  
  
"Um, hey. Hey," he says, dropping a firm hand to one smooth but equally firm shoulder. He's solid, warm and, Youngbae thinks, _alive_.  
  
"Hello? Are you-- can you hear me?" he keeps trying, not giving up. "Come on, man... please wake up."  
  
At last the boy stirs, eyelids opening to slits as he half-turns to face him, and for Youngbae that's it. His breath is gone, just like the stone. Stolen from him, sucked right out of his lungs.  
  
Because the boy is _gorgeous_ , his handsome face set with strong, defining features. In the moonlight his skin is creamy and unblemished. His hair shines like burnished silver, reminiscent of the rock he came from. The eyes he blinks up at Youngbae with are attractively sharp-- like his, he thinks, but somehow more elegant.  
  
"Where did you come from? How did you get here?" he asks, grappling with disbelief. He thinks he already know, but he needs to hear it from this... this _thing_ staring up at him.  
  
Confusion flits across the boy's face.  
  
"Do you even understand what I'm saying?" he tries, hoping his efforts won't be in vain. Sure would suck if the success of this impromptu mission came down to something as simple as a language barrier. "Who are you?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
" _What_ are you?" he clarifies. And god, if that isn't the strangest question he's ever asked...  
  
The boy blinks up at him with those dark eyes of his and, with some work, sits up so that they're level. _Progress_ , Youngbae thinks, and prompts him again.  
  
"Well?"  
  
"I'm..." The boy trails off, eyes going distant as if dredging up a memory from somewhere deep. It takes him some time to find his words, but Youngbae is patient. Finally, he turns his face to the stars and says, in a voice that's hoarse from lack of use, "I'm from above."  
  
"Above?"  
  
"Up there." He points to the stars twinkling down at them.  
  
"From _where_ up there?"  
  
"I'm--" The boy's gasp is clear and sharp. "I'm below? On the surface?"  
  
"Earth's surface? Yes." Youngbae answers him, feeling absurd as he says it. Where else could the two of them possibly be but on Earth. The moon?  
  
He pushes for more, "I saw something fall out of the sky. Was that you?"  
  
"I fell," the boy says. "I did! I was falling, and-- and it hurt. I thought I would die, I was _burning_ , and then..."  He strokes the blackened earth around him, sifting fingers through the dirt like he's dipping them in cool water to test the current. "And then I woke up here. I can't believe. I'm actually here."  
  
_You and me both_ , Youngbae would say if he wasn't distracted by the way the boy looks at him then, like he's seeing him for the very first time that night.  
  
"And you're one of them."  
  
"One of them," Youngbae repeats, slowly. Why did that have to sound so eerie? A shiver runs down his spine. "I'm human. And you're... not."  
  
The boy shakes his head.  
  
Of course he's not. He fell from the _sky_. And burst into flames like a fireball on the way down. And then, and then...  
  
"Right. You're not human, you're some kind of rock from space." Or, well, he was. Before Youngbae touched him and triggered something-- seriously, did he fall and hit his head? Is he asleep in a hospital bed somewhere while Jiyong holds his hand and pleads with him to wake up? This can't possibly be real life. Not _his_ life.  
  
Oh god. He hopes he doesn't have brain damage.  
  
"I'm not a rock," the boy replies matter-of-factly.  
  
"No?" Youngbae snorts. "Then what was that thing I found when I got here. Looked like a rock to me, and it was right where _you're_ now sitting."  
  
The boy studies his hands, turning them over and over to squint down at his palms, the fine bones on the backs of his hands, his eight fingers and two thumbs.  
  
"A rock..." he murmurs, and there's a faint note of uncertainty in it. "Maybe I was something else, once. Long ago. I don't remember anymore. It's been so long."  
  
"How long?"  
  
"Too long."  
  
Youngbae makes a frustrated sound, an aggressive sigh. He feels like he's talking to a child.  
  
"Look, just tell me this. We've established where you came from." Well... sort of. He'll just have to go with it for now. What's the harm in playing along for awhile? At least until he wakes up and leaves this dream world behind. "What's your name? Do you have a name?"  
  
"Name?" The boy's face becomes one of puzzlement. Then, strangely, one of pain. "I don't think I have one of those."  
  
"Of course you don't," Youngbae says, and it comes out more scathing than he'd wanted, "because you're a fucking _fallen star_ who just blazed a bright, fiery trail through the atmosphere and landed--" Here, in this old park, possibly one of the last remote places in this overpopulated city.  
  
He doesn't mean to be, well, so _mean_. He's just questioning his reality right now. The validity of it all. Anyone else in his shoes would probably be a bit prickly too.  
  
"Oh, I'm not a star," the boy is quick to correct him. He doesn't seem to notice his aggravation. "The stars are very far from here. Too far. Pretty though. How they sparkle..."  
  
"I know you're not a star," Youngbae grumbles, "But it sounded nicer than, what... meteor? Meteoroid? Meteorite? Can never get that right."  
  
The boy shrugs. "Call me what you want. I've been circling for as long as I can remember."  
  
"Circling what? The earth?"  
  
The boy nods.  
  
"It's beautiful, but..." His face droops, seeming disappointed. "But always so far away."  
  
And to Youngbae's surprise, he feels a pang of pity for the boy. The rock. The meteorite. The lump of chewed-up metal from space. God, what is he even dealing with here?  
  
"If you were so lonely why didn't you just, I don't know, come on down?" He works up a smile, just a small one, giving in to an inexplicable need to lift the other's spirits. "I think there's room for one more down here."  
  
"I couldn't just _come down_ ," the boy says, a little defensive. "Until recently I was, as you so nicely put it, a rock. I couldn't move on my own." Then, turning thoughtful, he muses, "Maybe it was you who pulled me down here."  
  
"What, like gravity?"  
  
That's a funny thought. Flattering too, to think for even a moment that he could have that kind of influence on anyone. Anyone besides his fans, that is.  
  
"So what have you been doing up there all this time?" he asks, his curiosity returning.  
  
"Just drifting. Along the outer edges of the atmosphere, usually. Wasn't often that I got to come in close."  
  
"Did you ever worry that you'd just--" Youngbae struggles to push the words out, almost ashamed of himself for going along with this so readily. "Did you ever think that the earth would lose its grip on you? That you'd get flung out into space?"  
  
"Sure. Sometimes."  
  
"You don't sound too bothered."  
  
The boy's eyes take on a faraway look then, like they had before when he'd been asked where he came from, and Youngbae gets the sense that even though his body is down here, with him, a part of him remains up there, his mind still miles high.  
  
"There was nothing I could do about it. The solar wind is strong. It could have taken me anytime," the boy answers, surprisingly nonchalant. "But it never did. Something always pulled me back. And then it was back to floating, around and around, without purpose. Float, and observe."  
  
_Well, that's not creepy at all_ , Youngbae thinks. He wonders how many other eyes are up there, looking down on him and charting his every move, day and night. Well, not eyes, because rocks don't have those, but...  
  
This is making his head hurt.  
  
"You never wondered why?" he has to ask. Existential crises he's pretty sure are largely a human construct, which this creature clearly is not-- or wasn't, until only minutes ago-- but Youngbae is curious. He wants to know just how much like him this strange boy is. An existence like the one described, sailing aimlessly and seemingly without reason, and powerless to change course... Youngbae would have gone mad long ago.  
  
"Sometimes I wondered," the boy says again. "I thought that maybe... maybe watching _was_ my purpose."  
  
"Didn't know inanimate objects thought about things like purpose," Youngbae can't resist adding. But then, up until a few minutes ago, he didn't think inanimate objects thought about anything at all. "That's rather philosophical for a space rock, don't you think?"  
  
"I had a lot of time to think."  
  
"Yeah, probably. And now you're here." He studies the boy a moment. "So... you don't know why you ended up down here. But can you tell me why you look... well, like me? Like a person." _Like a human._  
  
The boy's face falls.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"I touched you and you... changed. How?"  
  
 Youngbae reaches out a hand and rests the tips of his fingers against the boy's arm, over his bicep, easing into it with painstaking care like he would a frightened bird that might take flight at any moment, mindful of the fact that he's never made contact before. Not in this body.  
  
The boy's eyes go wide at his touch.  
  
"I didn't know I could," he says, staring down at Youngbae's fingers on his arm in shock and awe.  
  
"Magic?"  
  
"Maybe." The boy keeps on gawking as Youngbae lets his hand climb higher, fingers tapping a path up and over his shoulder. "Maybe because you were the first to touch me? The first living th-- thing?" he stutters as Youngbae's hand advances, flattening over the side of his neck...  
  
...and finding a heartbeat. Youngbae can't say he was expecting none, but it still surprises him. This, too is now a living thing.  
  
"The impact knocked me out, I didn't see you come into the clearing. I wasn't-- " The boy perks up suddenly. "What-- what did I look like?"  
  
"Like a rock." And when he sags, not satisfied with that reply, Youngbae continues, "Shiny though. Shimmering. Pretty." _Only half as pretty as you are now though._  
  
"How did you touch me?" He tilts subtly into Youngbae's touch. "Like this?"  
  
"Not even," Youngbae says, and pokes him lightly on the collarbone with the tip of his pointer finger, aiming for the one miniscule imperfection he can see on all that otherwise perfect skin: a pin-sized mole on his clavicle.  
  
"Like that," he says, and does it again. "That's all. The smallest touch and then-- light! A lot of it. Nearly blinded me, seriously."  
  
"Sorry. Maybe it's like you said: some kind of ancient magic." The boy shrugs, unconcerned. "I don't know what else to tell you."  
  
"Ancient, huh." A thought strikes Youngbae, and he has to ask. "Hey. So you've probably been around a long time. What about the dinosaurs? Did you see them? I know that was like sixty-five million years ago, but..."  
  
"Oh, yes," the boy replies, and it's like he lights up and deflates at the same time, an odd combination for sure. "I remember dinosaurs. Terrible, what happened to them. I cried so hard."  
  
"You _cried_?"  
  
"For centuries," he says glumly. "Though I'd never be able to stop."  
  
_Centuries_ , Youngbae thinks, head spinning. If that's not the worst crying spell he's ever heard of...  
  
"But you were a rock," he points out. "How can a rock cry?"  
  
"I cried _inside_ ," the boy says, pouting. "You wouldn't understand."  
  
"No, no, I want to," Youngbae says, and he's surprised to realize that he _does_. His head is still screaming at him to _run_ , to get out of here while there's still time, before he's pulled too far into this freaky fabrication of his own mind. But his heart... That part of him wants to know this boy better. In the end, longing trumps logic.  
  
After all, he says he's seen dinosaurs. _Alive_.  
  
"At the time, they were the most interesting thing I had ever seen," the boy carries on quietly. "Then that thing hit, and the whole world went dark, and when the dust cleared... they were gone." His lip wobbles. "Dead."  
  
"You thought your entertainment had died out for good," Youngbae coos. "Poor, lonely, bored space rock."  
  
For a moment Youngbae thinks the boy looks might actually cry, tears and all, and that awkward oh god what do I do is just beginning to settle over him when the boy's expression suddenly lifts, like a switch being flipped.  
  
"But that made room for your kind to come along," he says, a shy smile finding its way to his face. "Humans are so much more interesting."  
  
"Thanks? We must have looked like ants to you though," is what comes out of Youngbae's mouth next, and _of course_ that would be the one thought to make it through his filter.  
  
"Ants?"  
  
"Too small?" he guesses. Then shakes his head, discarding the idea. "You know what, no. None of this makes any sense. How can you possibly see us from all the way up there? How can you see anything at all, besides oceans and continents and clouds?"  
  
"You wouldn't understand."  
  
"Yeah, you said that already." Maybe he wants the boy to explain it anyway. Youngbae might not understand, might not be _capable_ of understanding, but he'll at least enjoy watching him try.  
  
Anything to get those eyes back on him.  
  
"Come on, try me. I'm a good listener. I want to understand," he says sweetly. "Life as seen through the eyes of a rock from space. Sounds like a good story."  
  
"Please stop calling me a rock," the boy says, lip curling like he's just bit into something sour. Which Youngbae is positive he never has. Sweet, sour, spicy... he's never known any of these things.  
  
"Oh, does that bother you?" Youngbae laughs. "Sorry. What should I call you?"  
  
 "There was another word you used. I liked that one better."  
  
"Uh... Meteor?"  
  
The boy nods.  
  
Youngbae laughs again, surprised but secretly so pleased.  
  
"That's not really accurate either," he says, trying to remember the astronomy portion of his high school science classes, like far off memories to him now. "You were a meteor only when you began your descent. Before that, you were a meteoroid. When you hit the ground you became a meteorite."  
  
"That's... a lot."  
  
"Right? Who comes up with this stuff?" Youngbae offers him a sympathetic smile.  
  
"I don't think I can remember all that."  
  
"You don't have to. Because now you're, um." He waves an arm through the air, gesturing toward all of the boy, from the top of his silver head of hair to his bare feet. "You seem human enough now. Real enough."  
  
"I am real." And it's stated like it's the most obvious thing, like _Youngbae_ is the crazy one for ever thinking otherwise. "I'm a real boy."  
  
"Your name wouldn't happen to be Pinnochio, would it?" Youngbae pokes fun.  
  
The boy stares back at him with a bland expression, and it takes some of the wind out of his sails. This guy can't be expected to get the joke. He could watch all the world if he wanted, but he's probably never seen a TV screen, much less a movie.  
  
"Nevermind."  
  
Youngbae lays a friendly hand on the other's knee and squeezes, hoping the gesture comes across as warm, inviting. An act of affection he uses on his closest friends: Jiyong, Seunghyun, Seungri. They usually seem to appreciate it, his hands-on approach to friendship, but there's no telling what kind of reaction he'll get with this one.  
  
What he does know is that he wants to help the other boy. Somehow. However he can. It's the strangest thing. Every time he even thinks of rising and walking away from this bizarre dream, from this boy sitting with him under the moonlight in the dirt, with legs he hasn't yet tried to use folded in front of him, only the shadows keeping him modest, an unexpected panics grips him.  
  
"Still wish we could figure out where you came from," he mutters, still wrestling with his need to know.  
  
"I told you--"  
  
"No, before. Before you started circling the earth." He squeezes the boy's leg above the knee and is glad when he doesn't so much as flinch. "Did you come from down here? Like, after a big impact or something? Or are you from... somewhere else?"  
  
"My memory from that far back is unreliable," the boy says, sounding apologetic. "But I've always felt like I came here from somewhere. I have these... images? Of other places. They might be memories. Other planets. Not blue like this one. Nothing up close, and not for long, just passing through. And that big star, always up ahead..."  
  
"The sun?"  
  
The boy's head dips in a quick nod.  
  
"There was heat and sunlight... and a trail of light behind..." He frowns, face taut with remembered fear. "And then everything came apart. I-- I can't forget that." That last part he speaks very quietly, like it crept out of him on a whisper without his knowing.  
  
A trail of light? Youngbae has seen something like that once before in his lifetime. He'd been nine years old at the time, but he'll never forget the ball of light crawling its way across the night sky for months on end, its brilliant tail visible to the naked eye.  
  
"You're not from here," he breathes, wonderstruck. "You came here on a comet."  
  
And he's been here ever since, caught in Earth's orbit, a former traveler through space stuck for the foreseeable future in one place. Maybe, Youngbae thinks, it's better that he doesn't remember life before Earth. He might miss what he lost: the excitement of life on the go.  
  
And here he's been calling him a rock all this time.  
  
This boy must be something else, something truly otherworldly. Flung through space, he journeyed here from the outer reaches of the solar system... perhaps beyond that. Do comets traverse galaxies? The thought makes Youngbae feel faint, the vastness and mystery of the universe too great to even attempt to fathom. Especially at this late hour.  
  
And yet, even with this new discovery, he's on his way to accepting that this _isn't_ a dream after all. It feels real enough. Sitting down and talking with the boy, crazy though their conversation has been, has convinced Youngbae that tonight's adventure has more than just some fever dream. He's touched him, this gift from the sky, has felt his skin with his bare hands, cool on the surface but burning with an undeniable heat underneath.  
  
...and he'd _liked_ it. A lot more than he expected to, he's beginning to realize. Youngbae barely knows him but he likes him already. This boy who, as he learned earlier, did not come to him with a name.  
  
"Daesung."  
  
"Huh?" The boy squints at him. "I don't know that word."  
  
"It's not a word. It's a name," he explains. "Mine is Youngbae."  
  
The boy stares.  
  
"It can be your name," he explains, hopeful. "You know, if you want it."  
  
The boy-- the shooting star he saw, the rock from the heavens, a piece of debris caught in this planet's thrall for millions of years-- his whole face lights up, glowing with a happiness that Youngbae feels reflected in himself like it's his own. That bright smile is a cloud of warmth around his heart and he wants to protect that, the childlike innocence of this old soul who, by fate or fortune, flew across his field of vision and crash-landed right in the center of his life this incredible, unforgettable night.  
  
"Daesung," the boy says, sounding it out. "I like it."  
  
"You do?" Youngbae lets slip, taken aback. "I mean-- great! Good. I'm... I'm glad."

 _Oh Lord, give me strength._  
  
"I like it because you gave it to me," the boy, _Daesung_ , reveals with an honesty that warms Youngbae's heart. "No one has ever given me anything before."  
  
 And with that, more than Youngbae's heart is warming; his face is growing hot too. He's _blushing_. The smooth and suave SOL, one of the country's hottest up-and-coming stars, turning pink just because someone showed appreciation for a gift he gave them.  
  
"...Did I say something wrong?" Daesung's grateful smile collapses into a look of alarm. He plunges into a deep bow, head nearly to the ground. "I'm-- I'm sorry."  
  
"No, no, you're good," Youngbae is quick to say, hating to see him apologizing for nothing. "I just wasn't ready."  
  
"And that's... okay?"  
  
"Yeah. That was actually surprisingly sweet," he admits. _But then, you're full of surprises, aren't you? So what's one more?_  
  
Daesung springs upright again, all traces of worry washed away.  
  
"Thank you for giving me a name," he says this time, and _that_ Youngbae can handle.  
  
"It's not just _a_ name. It's _your_ name."  
  
Daesung squints at him like he doesn't quite get the distinction.  
  
"Thank you for my name," he says dutifully, and really, there's nothing insincere about it-- he's just a little clueless, and Youngbae can forgive him that.  
  
"That's better," Youngbae sighs. "And you're welcome. I'm glad you like it."  
  
_I hope you'll keep it._  
  
Relief floods Daesung's face, and in the silence that follows he reaches up and runs a hand through his hair-- his long bangs had fallen over his eyes when he'd bowed-- then stops, intrigued. As carefully as one would grasp the thread of a spider's web, he draws a lock of it forward to study with inquisitive eyes.  
  
Seeing his own hair for the first time. His wide-eyed bewilderment charms Youngbae so thoroughly that he has to act.  
  
Before he knows it he's sidling up to him, the lock of Daesung's hair pinched between his own fingers as soft as he imagined. Daesung's eyes are unafraid as Youngbae tucks the strands gently behind his ear; he looks him boldly in the eye the entire time. He's new to this, Youngbae reminds himself, and so trusting. He hasn't had years to learn to fear the judgment in others' eyes. Youngbae hopes he never will.  
  
But then his hand, having a mind of its own, doesn't leave once its task is complete; it cups the other boy's face, cradles his jaw, his thumb brushing over high cheekbones as tenderly as if grazing a butterfly's powdery wings.  
  
Against Youngbae's bare knees the ground is still warm from impact, the rips in his jeans exposing his legs enough to feel its residual heat. But Daesung's skin is warmer.  
  
Especially right... here.  
  
Youngbae's thumb lands on his lower lip, full and so _very_ kissable.  
  
"Sorry." He tears himself away, voice tight. "I shouldn't have done that."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"I--"

He doesn't have a clue how to answer that; everything that comes to mind sounds dreadful. Things like _It's too soon_ and _For being millions of years old you seem shockingly innocent and it feels like I'm taking advantage of you_ and, last but certainly not least of all, _You're from space._  
  
See? Plenty of reasons to keeps his hands-- and lips-- to himself.  
  
"I didn't mind it," Daesung says, and _scoots in closer_. "You could... You could do it again. If you want to."  
  
Youngbae stares at him for a long time. It's the strangest thing, watching as his reasons dissolve before his eyes. What were they again? With just a few words Daesung has taken a lighter to them, all his hastily-made excuses gone up in smoke, and Youngbae knows then exactly what's going to happen moments before it does.  
  
"How about I do one better," he murmurs, and darts in to drop a kiss on those willing lips, probing this time with more than just the pads of his fingers. He keeps it chaste and manages to pull away precisely when he means to, because while he likes Daesung a lot, taking it slow is sort of his style. He wrote a song about it, after all.  
  
_Funny_ , he thinks, _now I'm the one falling._  
  
"Come home with me?" To anyone else that would sound like an offer, Youngbae knows this, but it's a perfectly innocent request. He cups one of Daesung's hands in both of his. "I don't know what your plans are, if you even have any plans, but... at the very least you're gonna need something to wear."  
  
Daesung glances down at himself, seeming surprised by his nakedness.  
  
"Oh! I have to--"  
  
He gapes at Youngbae, mouth working soundlessly like he's forgotten how to speak.  
  
"Get dressed. Yep."  
  
"I'm not wearing any clothes. I'm _naked_."    
  
He laughs like it's the funniest thing in the world.  
  
"You sure are," Youngbae says, utterly charmed by this creature... being... _person_ he has only just met. "It's fine. I'll lend you some of mine."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Come on. Up." He stands, knees popping as they straighten under him, and offers Daesung a hand. With a little help, he makes it to his feet without tipping over, and leans heavily on Youngbae as he wobbles on his new legs.  
  
That's when he sees it-- the other boy is taller than him.  
  
"Not fair," Youngbae says under his breath. He knows he's short, but this is salt in the wound, like the universe is pranking him. It was his touch that made Daesung what he is; he was formed more or less in his image. Couldn't they have at least been the same height?  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing," He shakes his head; he won't be offended, he won't.  "Just-- look at you! You're standing."  
  
"This is harder than it looks."  
  
"Only the first few times. You'll get it," Youngbae tells him, and steadies him with hands on his hips. Just helping him find his balance, is all.  
  
But with his hands resting there, it takes all his willpower not to let his eyes wander.  
  
_Well, why not?_ the little devil on his shoulder tempts, and Youngbae thinks he has a point. Daesung wouldn't care if he looked. He'll probably have questions for him later, questions Youngbae isn't ready to think about just yet. They just met!  
  
"My clothes might be a little short on you, but it'll be better than nothing at all."  
  
Hands come to rest on his arms, and when Youngbae looks up again, it's to the other boy's excited face beaming back at him.  
  
"I can't wait to wear clothes."  
  
"For the first time, yeah," he chuckles and steps back. "Until then... gotta get you something for the walk back."  
  
It might be just the two of them _now_ , but he can't exactly take Daesung out of the park and back up to the house-- back to his car, where they'll make their getaway-- in his current state of undress. He's a terrible liar; he can't imagine how he would begin to explain any of this if they happened to be caught.  
  
So his jacket comes off, and his jeans too, leaving him in a simple printed tee and black boxer-briefs. Not the best, but he's covered, at least. He holds them out to Daesung, who takes them but seems confused about what to do with them.  
  
"What?" Youngbae asks, suddenly self-conscious, and about his _clothes_ , of all things. Is there something wrong with them? What if Daesung doesn't like them?  
  
"How do I...?"  
  
Oh. Right. He's never had to dress himself before.  
  
"Looks good on you. It suits you," Youngbae observes after helping him into his borrowed clothes. And he isn't just saying that to make the other boy feel better; he looks hot in distressed jeans and leather. That he isn't wearing anything underneath, his chest bared to the night air through the jacket's open front, only adds to the effect.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"But maybe we should close this up..." he decides and, with some trouble, manages to get the jacket's front zipped up. " _Now_ you're decent." _And I'm not._  
  
The smile Daesung gives him is blinding.  
  
"Well? Ready to see the world up close?"  
  
Youngbae claps him on the shoulder, turning them around and away from the impact site, leading Daesung with a careful hand to the outer rim of the-- well, the crater, if it can be called that. They move at a snail's pace so Daesung can adjust to the act of walking. His first steps.  
  
_So many firsts tonight,_ Youngbae thinks through a sudden rush of affection.  
  
Daesung looks ready alright-- ready to jump right out of his skin. Through his jacket Youngbae can feel him shaking, tiny tremors at intervals with every halting step.  
  
"Nervous? Or excited?"  
  
"I feel..."  
  
The look of concentration on Daesung's face as, for the first time, he walks the surface of this planet he's spent eras surveying, is something special. Youngbae knows he's soaking up every moment.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I... I _feel_."  
  
Like he never has before. For him this is an experience of a lifetime. A lifetime spanning tens of millions of years, maybe more, impossible to comprehend. This human body he's arrived in will come with a learning curve, and that's okay, because he's got Youngbae to show him the ropes.  
  
Daesung lets out a small cry, abrupt and sharp, and right away Youngbae knows his foot has found something stabby.  
  
"Sorry, probably should have given you my shoes too."  
  
He's lifting a foot to undo the laces when Daesung stops him.  
  
"No," he says, leaning on him for support while he balances on one leg. Quick learner, this one. "I want to feel this too."  
  
"Pain?"  
  
"Is that what it is?" Daesung sets his foot down gingerly, wincing a bit. "I don't think I like it."  
  
"Yeah, that's... that's kind of the point."  
  
Is this guy for real? Could he actually be everything he says he is? Not even an hour ago-- or maybe two, he doesn't know, hasn't been keeping time-- he'd been gazing at the stars and sending up silent wishes. Every unspoken word detailing his undisclosed desires, of which there hadn't been much, and feeling like an fool because of it. All he'd wanted was something--  
  
Something real.  
  
He has a funny feeling that he might have found it. Or it found him. And then he's grinning at the thought, a flicker of hope become a torch, passion rekindled and plain to see, like the tattoo in bold ink across his chest.  
  
At his side he hears another gasp, this one faint, and he thinks, _again?_ What awful luck if before they've even made it out of the park Daesung has already hurt himself enough to need help.  
  
"Here, give me your foot. Let me see," he says, patting the other boy on the leg.  
  
"The sun."  
  
Youngbae stops and stares.  
  
"What? Where?"  
  
He swivels his head, checking the night sky in every direction for even a hint of sunlight and finding none. No surprise there; sunrise is still hours away.  
  
"Daesung--"  
  
But Daesung isn't looking at the sky. He's looking at him.  
  
"Your smile," he says, voice colored with something like wonder. "It's like the sun."

 

 

 


End file.
